


and i’ve been trying to fill all of this empty (but fuck i’m still so empty)

by anila_co



Category: Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, F/F, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Precious Peter Parker, Sad Peter Parker, Smol Peter Parker, Tony Stark Acting as Peter Parker's Parental Figure, vent fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-16
Updated: 2020-06-16
Packaged: 2021-03-03 18:54:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,132
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24740383
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anila_co/pseuds/anila_co
Summary: Peter Parker feels nothing.aka: life is half frozen oatmealbtw the title is from "modern loneliness" by lauv
Comments: 10
Kudos: 43





	and i’ve been trying to fill all of this empty (but fuck i’m still so empty)

Today, Peter Parker woke up and felt...nothing. It wasn't unusual. For him. 

His alarm woke him up at 6:00 am, and he quickly shut it off. Instead of instantly swinging off the bed, as he might have a few months ago, he simply lay there and stared at the ceiling. _Nothing_. Peter would have been fine lying there for the rest of the day, but school was important, and just because his stupid brain didn't want to hit him up with endorphins and serotonins didn't mean he was going to ruin his entire life. It was just hard sometimes, to imagine a future where he was happy.

Waking up, he threw on his red hoodie and skinny jeans. Same outfit as the last 4 days. The blinds stayed closed, light barely filtering through. Not that it mattered, with his enhanced eyesight. He walked into the bathroom and turned to look at the mirror. Peter didn't like what he saw, so he closed the door so the light was blocked and his outline was blurred, and turned on the tap to brush his teeth. The water was cold, since it was an old apartment building, but he didn't mind it. It wouldn't have made a difference anyway. Splashing water on his face, he didn't bother properly going through his skin care routine, and turned away and walked out to the kitchen. May had left a piece of toast in the oven, but he wasn't hungry, so he wrapped it up and saved it for later. 

Walking to school helped: it made him feel less alone when elderly grandmothers smiled at him from their porches and the hot dog vender waved at him-2 weeks ago he'd helped return his dachshund (as Peter Parker, of course). The hustle and bustle of the city also helped him distract himself, as opposed to night time, when he sat on his bed and all he could do was realize how bland his life felt. The subway that morning was crowded, and Peter was shoved against the glass and between two middle aged men. That didn't matter to him. Nothing did.

"Hey! Hey, kid, you're blocking the entrance!" Peter was quickly shocked out of his stupor, thinking of nothing and eternity and death. A tall woman was looking down at him and glaring.

"Sor-Sorry." Peter stammered out. He quickly moved out of the way. The lady rolled her eyes at him on her way out, and Peter wanted to disappear. He spent the rest of the two stops thinking about how stupid and obtuse he'd been. He wished he could feel shame, or regret, but really he didn't feel either of those things.

As Peter finally walked into school, Ned saw him and ran to catch up.

"Hey, dude!"

"Hey! How's it going, man?" _Fake it till you make it, fake it till you make it._ His mantra of the last few weeks.

"Not bad! I texted you last night about the science homework, but you didn't respond. You alright?"

_Shit._

"Yeah, sorry, dude. Was feeling pretty tired, so I conked out early."

"Did it have anything to do with... _you know what?_ " Ned wiggled his eyebrows.

"Ha-yeah. This might be surprising, but dogs actually put a pretty good fight too. It's not just cats. It's okay now, though. I sacrificed my ham sandwich and he calmed down. His name is Chewbarka." It was a lie-he'd spent last night trying to motivate himself to do his homework. But he'd gotten pretty good at pretending.

" _Dude_ ".

"What?"

"Chewbarka? Really?." 

Just then the bell rang, and he turned to do the "secret" handshake with Ned. 

"See you at lunch, man."

"Yeah-see you later."

First class-English. They were doing a novel study on _Lord of The Flies_ , which Peter did not finish, despite staying up until 3 am. He couldn't bring himself to care though-what was the point? It was English, no one cared. All the kids here were aggressively STEM minded. So when he got into the classroom he slunk to the back and pretended he was taking notes. He was, actually. Just not on the hidden themes William Golding had slipped into chapter 10 and 11. At the end, when the bell rang, he looked down.

_nonecaresnoonecaresnoonecares_

Peter walked off to his next class.

***

For most of the rest of the day, Peter blanked out. He had decathlon practice at lunch, which he considered skipping, but at that point Ned would be suspicious. The answers came easily to him-flashcards were a great distraction and they made him feel productive, even if it was 2:30 am and he was supposed to be sleeping. 

Finally, Peter stumbled into his last class. It was health class, which happened twice a week. This month they were learning about emotions and teenage hormones (as if they didn't get enough shit about it at home from their parents and random elderly people who give unsolicited advice). This time the back row was already filled, since nobody liked this class. Peter resigned himself to a third row seat and slumped down.

"Alright, kiddos! Let's get to today lessons!:)" Peter could hear the aggressive smiley face inserted into the sentence.

"Today we're going to talk about our fears! I will give you a piece of paper, and on it I want you to write what your greatest fear is." Mr. Jansen started handing out papers, and when Peter got his, he stared down at it blankly.

"You have 3 minutes. Get to it!:))"

Peter tapped his pencil against the desk. The students around him were already scribbling away-probably things like "rejection" and "failure". Perhaps even material things, like "the dark" and "heights". Peter didn't know what to write down. There was the easy answer-"death". It was a stereotypical fear, and the safe way to go. He could lie, of course, and just copy what the girl in front of him had written-"spiders". It was ironic, and Peter loved funny things.

"10 seconds left!"

Peter quickly scribbled down, without even thinking about it-"not crying when someone I love dies".

***

Later that night, as Aunt May and him ate dinner-meatloaf, which was better than stir fry but worse than shepherd's pie-she asked him how things were going at school.

"Hm? Oh-everything's fine." School was fine. It was him who was screwed up.

"Is there anything you want to tell me about, baby?"

Peter glanced up. May only called him "baby" when she was really worried about something.

"Is something wrong, May?"

"No-nothing's wrong, baby. It's just that I got a call from school. About your-about what you did in your last class."

_Fuck._

"The school wants you to go to therapy."

A rare stroke of emotion flared up in his chest. But before he had time to appreciate it, he spat out "What? I talk about death and suddenly I need therapy?"

"Peter, no. It isn't just what you wrote down-they're worried you still haven't gotten over Ben's death. It's barely been a year, baby. You're allowed to still be upset."

Peter didn't know why he was so angry. But it was different from his usual nothingness, so he leaned into it.

"What if I don't want to go to therapy? Are you just going to force me?"

"Baby, it isn't just them. I'm also worried. You haven't been acting like yourself recently."

That just made Peter more annoyed. It was like meth had suddenly been injected into his bloodstream after napping for several weeks.

"Well, I'm sorry that I can't 'act like myself' as I grieve for my dead uncle. I'm sorry I can't be what you want, all the time. I'm sorry I feel like this!"

Peter got up and stormed off.

***

Peter might have once gone out as Spider-man, as he might once have. Instead he went out as Peter Parker, in Spider-man's suit. Thankfully, it was a quiet night, so the city wasn't suffering too much. Peter-man swung around for a bit, before landing on top of a sky scraper a ways out of Queens. He slipped off his mask and sat on the edge of the roof, letting his legs swing and just watching the city.

No screams.

No gun shots. 

No _feeling_. 

_Nothing_.

There was nothing.

Peter must have sat there for 6 hours, watching people and cars move around beneath in a trance like state. He supposed being awake at 2 am would do that to you. 6 hours is a long time, but when you feel nothing all time feels the same and your internal clock gets screwed. Finally, though, he heard Iron Man's repulsors grow louder as he flew up to the sky scraper Peter was sitting on.

"Hey, kid. What'cha doing up here?"

"H-Hey, Mr. Stark! I'm just doing my job, making sure the city doesn't spontaneously combust. New York, ya know."

"Well, I'm sure even New York won't spontaneously combust without warning. Why don't you head home now? I'm sure your aunt's worried sick."

"Yeah, definitely, Mr. Stark. I'll start heading home soon." Peter made no move to leave. Tony narrowed his eyes and peered closer at Peter. 

"You know what, kid? Why don't you head to the tower with me? It's pretty late at night and the tower's closer, anyway. Just be sure to text your aunt that you're safe and you'll see her tomorrow."

Peter weighed his options. If he went to the tower, he wouldn't have to confront his aunt until the next day, and as much as an effort Mr. Stark was making to be more of a part of his life, he still wasn't as able to read Peter as well as May.

"Sound's pretty good to me. Thanks, Mr Stark."

"No problem, kid. Race you to the tower?"

Peter smiled and started swinging away.

***

As soon as they got to the tower, Tony made sure Peter was in bed ASAP. After all, Spider-Babies needed their rest. Then he went down to the lab to tinker with the newest prototypes of the next StarkPhone. He soon found his rhythm in the whir of bots and clink of metal.

Meanwhile, Peter was sitting in his bed, looking out the window. The city was still bright and alive, vibrant and effervescent. It meant something. It was iconic, swarming with tourists all year long and filling the dreams of small town residents. Peter loved New York, and he loved Queens, and he loved his friends and Aunt and Mr. Stark and Spider-man. But something, _something_ , was missing.

***

"Boss? Mr. Parker seems to be in distress."

Tony looked up his 6th cup of coffee and 32nd prototype. "Distress?"

"He appears to be crying, and his heart rate is elevated."

_Nightmare_ , Tony thought. He quickly moved towards the elevator and pressed the button for Peter's room. When he reached the door, he burst in, fully expecting Peter to be tossing and turning. Instead, he saw Peter sitting up in bed, trying to muffle his tears.

"Pete? Bud? What's wrong?"

"No-nothing." Peter choked out.

"Really? It doesn't seem like nothing, bud." He wished Pepper was here. She would know what to do, what to say, and _God_ he missed her.

"I-I'm fine, Mr. Stark. It's just-" Peter's breath hitched. 

"Just what, Pete?" Tony prompted gently. 

Peter looked up, eyes shining with tears. "I feel _nothing_. I-I try, Mr. Stark, I really do! I go out as Spider-man, I try to district myself with school, I spend time with my friends...but it doesn't change _anything_. I've tried hurting myself, did you know that, Mr. Stark? Just to _feel_ something. But my healing closes them up before they scar, and I'm scared of doing real damage, so I don't try any harder. And what _I_ don't understand is how other people don't seem to feel this way, so there must be something wrong with me! And I'm _Spider-man_. I'm supposed to be better, I'm supposed to help others, but how can I do that when I can't even get myself to _care_? I can barely imagine a future for myself where I'm happy to be alive. I'm just _so_ tired."

"Oh, Pete... There's nothing wrong with you, bud. And you don't have to be better, you _are_ better." Tony reached for Peter's hand. "It's okay if you don't feel anything. I'll help you through it, and so will your aunt, and your friends. They love you, Pete. We all do. We don't expect anything else from you, kid. You've already tried so hard. You're enough, and we'll remind you until the end of time."

"Mr. Stark... I'm sor-"

"No, Peter. I'm so glad you told me. _Thank you_. I'll help you, bud. I promise."

And Peter believed him. Slowly, hesitantly, hope bloomed through his chest. 

**Author's Note:**

> hiiiiiii i hope you enjoyed!!:)
> 
> also i got inspiration from episode 6 of killing eve.
> 
> please leave kudos and tell me what you think <3


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